by Valia Lind
Find shelter within,
The Wanderer searches,
The heart beats with need.
The questions are asked,
The answers await.
The path of the Wanderer,
Leads to the knowledge of peace,
And self."
Then, I hear nothing.
"Beyond thrice nine lands, in the thirtieth kingdom, on the other side of the fiery river, there lives a Baba Yaga. She has so good a mare that she flies right round the world on it every day. And she has many other splendid mares. I watched her herds for three days without losing a single mare, and in return for that the Baba Yaga gave me a foal."
"But how did you get across the fiery river?"
"Why, I've a handkerchief of this kind--when I wave it thrice on the right hand, there springs up a very lofty bridge, and the fire cannot reach it."
- Russian Folk Tale
15
I open my eyes and find myself in a clearing filled with flowers bigger than I. The petals dance with color, singing a song of longing and forgiveness. I don't know why I understand the melody, or how I hear it, but it touches me inside, burning the moment into my subconsciousness.
I know this place. I've been here before. But nothing else seems to come with the realization.
Hearing a noise behind me, I turn and walk toward the sound. My steps are covered in an ever moving fog, surrounding my feet like a cloak. Glancing down at what I'm wearing, I find my regular clothing has once again been replaced by another ball gown. This one is light blue, a sheer material covering the large layers in the skirt. The fabric sparkles in the low light, entwining with the shadows of the dancing flowers.
The leaves part in front of me and suddenly, I'm surrounded by people.
A large castle rises in before me, the top of the spire getting lost in the low hanging clouds. The people are twirling to music, and laughter can be heard from all directions. A couple dances toward me and I try to step out of the way, but I'm not quick enough. But it doesn't matter, because they move through me, as if I'm not really there. That's when I remember I'm not.
I look around me, trying to see if I recognize anyone, but I don't. I weave through the dancers, frustration pumping through my blood. What is the point of this memory if all I'm getting are unrecognizable people? I try to move past this event, to gain some control of what I'm seeing, but I get nowhere.
Leaving the dancers behind, I round the corner and find myself in a courtyard much smaller than the previous one. There is a huge tree, planted right in the center. It's full of flowers, but not of the same kind. The colors of the rainbow and the blossoms of at least a dozen plants move to the slight breeze billowing around me.
I take a step closer, mesmerized by the beauty. The melody reaches out to me from the swaying flowers and it's magic in its purest form. My fingers move on their own, desperate to feel the petals under my skin and when I place my hand on the purple flower closest to me, I make contact. Surprised at the contradiction of my dream, I move closer still, and that's when I hear the voices.
I spin around just as a couple walks around the corner, deep in conversation. I notice the man first, it's impossible not to. He stands over six feet tall, dressed in what I can only call battle gear. His hair is deep midnight, his stance commanding. The girl is speaking, so I turn my attention to her. I can't see her face, her long glorious hair spilling in waves over her shoulders, purple and red locks, blocking my view. She's leaning toward her companion and while I can't hear what she's saying, I know it's urgent. When they step around the tree, my breath catches because I come face to face with myself.
It's me, there is no doubt. Yet, I look different. My hair is longer, colorful, fuller, styled in a way that can't be found on a current magazine cover. There's a glow to my skin, making my eyes seem bigger and brighter, my lips fuller. Even my voice seems to be a better version of the one I have now. The man beside me speaks and I tear my gaze from myself and stare at Brendan. Just like I look different, so does he.
Yet as different as he looks, his beauty still makes my breath catch. I can clearly hear their conversation now and my attention focuses on that.
"I have to do this, Brendan. Whatever may happen, the kingdom cannot handle a war right now. Not with him sick." I watch as Brendan reaches out, twining his fingers with my own, just like he's been doing since the moment he found me, and the other me exhales as if a weight has been taken off her shoulders.
"Cal, you don't have to go alone."
"Yes, I do. If you disappear too, they'll know something is up. It'll take them a while to realize I'm gone and when they do, I'll be set up and hidden."
"I don't like you going off by yourself into that realm."
"I know, but it's the best option we have until he's better." There's a moment of silence, then Brendan speaks softly.
"What if he doesn't get better?"
"Then we go to war." Dream me replies with hardness in her voice. I've never imagined myself sounding like this, but I can hear the warrior in me now. Just like when I made the guys use this spell on me. I don't understand why I'm watching this play out as a movie, because it's my memory. And still, I'm an outsider in my own mind.
They stand in silence, studying each other in a way that makes me feel like I'm intruding. I think she—I— wants to say something else and so does Brendan, but before either one can, a noise springs them apart.
"Cal, I know this is your job, but I can't help thinking there is more going on here than they're telling us."
"I agree," my other self glances around, making sure no one can hear her, "Mother has been weird lately. And I don't think it has anything to do with Father. They're keeping things from me."
"Then let's see if we can find out what that is."
"You'll find out what it is. I have somewhere else to be." I smile up at him, taking a step forward as the voices grow louder. I watch as they stare at each other, and then, as if they're pulled by some invisible thread they're in each others arms. My other self clings to Brendan like a lifeline, his arms securely around her.
"I'm scared." She whispers and I almost don't catch it. Brendan does. He squeezes her even more tightly, placing a soft kiss to the top of her head. There's a look on his face that tears at my heartstrings. I see the tears I didn’t see before, shining in Brendan’s eyes. I want to reach out and hold him, tell him that I'm okay even though I don't know if that's true anymore. The footsteps and voices are closer now, and after a deep breath, they release each other, standing good six feet away from one another. Someone rounds the corner and both of them stand up straighter, at attention. I turn to see who else is in the courtyard but I'm yanked away.
I expect to return to the real world, but the spell is keeping me in the dream. I look around again, finding myself in a dark room. My eyes adjust and I see that I’m in a library, similar to the one Maxwell spends all of his time in. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, lights flicker on and I’m blinded for a second.
“There you are,” I hear from behind me and I turn just in time to see Maxwell coming toward me. “Brendan has been looking for you. You were supposed to meet before the council meeting?”
He’s talking and looking at me as if I’m there, so I turn and look behind me and find my past self sitting in a chair not three feet away.
“I can’t face him right now, Maxwell.” The dream me says and I can almost see the weight of the world on her shoulders as she looks up at the boy. Maxwell’s features soften and he kneels in front of the chair, placing a hand over her own.
“Everyone is asking you to do so much for this land. I can’t imagine the pressure you are under, but ignoring Brendan now isn’t good for either of you—”
“Please don’t make this harder on me, Max.” The dream me interrupts, getting off the chair. Maxwell’s eyes flash as he gets out of the way and I know instantly it’s because she called him Max. He’s never been a fan of the nickname and she only uses it when
she’s frustrated or mad at him.
I’m amazed at the way my mind is processing information, as if I’m a different person, an outsider, trying to understand someone else. I watch as the dream me paces across the room and realize that trait of my personality hasn’t changed. I can tell there’s something on her mind that Maxwell is not aware of, because I’ve been feeling this exact frustration since my powers have started reemerging. I’m keeping a secret now, just like I was back then.
“Calista,” Maxwell begins, intercepting her walk across the room. “You have been my closest friend since before I can remember and I don’t want to see you put yourself in a situation where you end up hurt.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?” she asks, turning her full attention to the boy in front of her. “What I have to do, what I’ve already done, it’s my duty. I love you, Maxwell, you are the smartest guy I know. But in the end of the day, there is nothing you can do to make this better.”
“It’s not fair for you to carry the weight of Skazka on your shoulders.” Maxwell finally says, and there is so much emotion behind his words, it makes my heart squeeze.
She reaches over, placing her hand over his cheek, years of friendship a solid foundation between them. He puts his own hand over hers, touching his forehead to her own. There is so much history in their one shared look that I find myself crying at the picture in front of me.
I lost this. I lost myself. I lost my family. I knew I lost Brendan, but now I realize I’ve lost Maxwell too. The pain of everything that’s been taken from me burns its way through my blood and the tears become mingled with the screams. The agony, it’s tearing me apart.
I scream as I awake and solid arms are instantly around me.
Then, blackness.
I wake up in my borrowed bed. In the dim light of the room, I can see Brendan sleeping in a chair to my right. I try to sit up, but the throbbing in my head makes me inhale sharply and then Brendan is beside me.
"Hey," he says, studying me closely. I feel the pressure of his gaze on me like a physical touch. His eyes roam over me, making sure I'm intact, before meeting my own. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been put through a meat grinder." He helps me sit up and I realize I'm actually feeling much worse than that. "I really need to come up with better metaphors though, since this is not the last time that's happening. Got to stay witty and sharp, right?"
He chuckles at my lame attempt at a joke, but I had to say something. He's looking at me as if he just broke his favorite toy. I don't appreciate being a toy or categorized as broken. With difficulty, he tears his eyes away from mine and reaches for a glass of water on the nightstand. Handing it to me, I take a sip and watch him settle on the bed beside me.
"Where's Maxwell? We should talk about what I saw."
"So, you did see something."
It's more of a statement than a question, and it's my turn to study Brendan. He's uncomfortable to a point of fidgety. Before I can comment on his state, Maxwell walks in carrying a couple of books.
"Cali, you're awake!" he exclaims, dumping the books on my bed and plopping down beside me. "How are you feeling? Do you still know who we are?" I glance at him in alarm and watch as he visibly swallows.
"Excuse me? Do I know who you are?”
"Umm—“ I twist to glare at Brendan, who's no longer meeting my eyes either.
"You have got to be kidding me! This is what you guys were afraid was going to happen and you didn't bother telling me? What is wrong with you people?" I scramble off the bed, pushing past the boys. I need distance before I start punching them in the face.
"Cal, would it have made a difference?" Brendan's voice comes from behind me.
"Do you mean would I have still gone through with it? Probably. Yes. But that's not the point. The point is I can't trust you if you don't tell me the truth. Every time. Both of you." I keep my voice low, controlled, and the boys exchange a look I can only qualify as caution. "If you don't stop trying to protect me, I'm going to kick both of you into the next millennium and then figure this out on my own. I'm sick and tired of you treating me like I'm broken!" I'm screaming now, all the frustration that's been building inside of me for days, exploding all over the room in an unattractive display of a tantrum.
"Calista—“
"Don't Calista me, Brendan. Both of you have got to start telling me what's going on or I swear, I'll disappear again and this time I'll stay gone." I'm not exactly sure where that particular threat comes from, but as soon as I say it, I know it's the truth. I could do it and they know it. There's a bit of panic in their faces that makes my heart smile.
"Okay, let's not do anything rash," Maxwell says, ever the mediator. "Yes, we should've told you, but—“
"No, Maxwell. There are no buts. I don't want excuses, I want honesty. If you can't give me that, I don't want to deal with you." I turn away, staring out the window, letting my words sink in. I need them to understand that I'm not some kind of a puppet to be pushed around. I'm my own person, and while I may not be whole, I'm getting there.
"Cal," Brendan is suddenly behind me, his hands on my elbows. "I'm sorry we kept this from you. I know you don't want to hear this, but we're trying to protect you. And while we're doing that, we're also trying to find out the truth."
"How is keeping something that vital protecting me? Isn't it the complete opposite?" I turn in his arms, gazing up into his handsome face. I want to reach out and smooth the little crease forming between his eyebrows, the troubled look on his face making my walls wobble.
"Because if we told you, you would've tried protecting yourself from it. Then, the spell would've had no effect or might've pulled you in farther than we wanted you to. You told me once that I was to follow the rules of the majyk above all others, you made me swear, and I cannot break that promise." He exhales deeply, his body shuddering with the movement and I see the way that promise weighs on him. This is why Maxwell and him wouldn't look me in the eye.
Because of me.
"Then tell me that. Don't keep things from me. Please." He nods in affirmation and I feel like we finally reached some kind of a breaking point. They can't continue treating me like a child. Even with my memories gone, I'm more powerful than both of them put together.
I freeze at the thought, not sure where it came from or why. It doesn't particularly sound like something I would say, and yet, it seems to fit. Pushing it aside for further examination when I'm not being watched by two very perceptive boys, I take a deep breath and turn back to them. They're waiting on me to tell them about my memory, so I do. I keep the memory of Maxwell to myself for now, because I don’t think this is something Brendan knows or something I want to discuss. I want to hold on to the feeling of complete acceptance I felt in my memory, and maybe when I’m ready, I’ll talk to Maxwell about it alone. But now is definitely not the time.
"That was right before you disappeared," Brendan says, running his hand through his hair in that characteristic way of his once I’m finished describing the courtyard conversation. "Three days later you were gone."
He feels responsible, I can hear it in the tone of his voice and that part of me that remember us from before wants to reach out and touch him. But I don't.
"That's great and all," I say instead, "But it's still not giving me any legitimate leads. I need a memory to either give me a clue or to unlock some others. Not this randomness." And just like that, I come to a decision. A pinch of power flares up inside of me, but I hold it in. The fact that I’m experiencing this magic flares more often is something I should be sharing with them, but I can’t bring myself to do so. For some reason it feels like I’ve come up with this decision to keep things from them before, and I can’t quite make myself change my mind just yet. While I don't need them to know I'm having these flashes of magic, the flare does help solidify my thought.
"You can't push—“ Maxwell starts, but I hold up my hand to interrupt.
"I know what to do nex
t." I say, and the boys snap to attention. "I need to go back to campus."
That was definitely not something they expected.
"I don't understand. Why do you need to go back there?" Brendan asks, but doesn't even wait for an answer. "It's not a good idea."
"But I'm going. So you can either come with me or wait here. Either one works just fine." Placing my hands on my hips, I stare him down. The burning sensation of power is racing through my veins and a part of me knows that if I wanted to, I could make them submit with a wave of a finger.
"Cali, are we really arguing about this?" he asks, exasperated.
"I'm not arguing. I'm telling you how it is. We leave in five."
I don't wait for anyone to argue, but walk out of the room and into the hall. I need a breather away from them. The surges of power are becoming more and more frequent, and they make me want to do bad things. Before I’m in a sharing mood, I need to figure out what these two-sided memories and urges mean. There is an undercurrent of darkness that seems to move within me and it’s getting stronger with every memory. A huge part of me is afraid of what they would do if they knew. So for now, it’s my turn to keep a secret from them.
16
Arriving on campus after all this time seems surreal. I can't believe I've been gone for almost a month. My college education has ended before it even began, and for a moment, I grieve at the loss of innocence. I shake my head trying to dissipate the conflicting emotions. This was never my life, just an act. I could classify it as a part in a school play, and then the curtain fell. I was here for a moment, and now that moment is gone. I can't allow myself to be distracted by what could've been. The only real emotional attachment I can allow is Jemma. I'm afraid to face her.
"You know coming here is probably like walking into a trap, right?" Brendan breaks the five hour silence as we get out of the vehicle. It's been raining too hard to take his motorcycle, but the tense ride would've been easier if I didn't have to see him gripping the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.
